


All Hallow's Eve

by strawberry_pills



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Halloween, One Shot, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:42:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27293629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberry_pills/pseuds/strawberry_pills
Summary: Tonight was his favorite night of the year. Samhain. Or Halloween as the Muggles called it. The only night he was allowed to deviate from the usual diet of drinking from plastic blood bags procured from Muggle hospitals.Tonight, Lucius Malfoy would get to sink his sharp teeth into something warm and fresh.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Lucius Malfoy
Comments: 4
Kudos: 37





	All Hallow's Eve

**Author's Note:**

> We were binge-ing vampire films/shows this Halloween and this one here was inspired by Only Lovers Left Alive. I was gonna post this one to Chiaroscuro but it was 6k+ words long. It definitely deserved a post on its own lol

> _Do you believe in destiny? That even the powers of time can be altered for a single purpose? That the luckiest man who walks on this earth is the one who finds… true love?  
> _ -Bram Stoker, Dracula.

Lucius ran a hand through the brunette’s thick hair before redirecting her eager kisses from his neck to the slight dent in his trousers. His index finger traced a path from the corner of her lips to the edge of her jaw then right down to the pulse point on her neck. He felt himself grew harder as his long pale finger touched the exact point where the blood pounded the strongest.

Blood always tasted different when a person is aroused.

Sweeter. Darker. _Sinful._

Tonight was his favorite night of the year. _Samhain._ Or Halloween as the Muggles called it. The only night he was allowed to deviate from the usual diet of drinking from plastic blood bags procured from Muggle hospitals.

Tonight, Lucius Malfoy would get to sink his sharp teeth into something warm and fresh.

He spotted her as he meandered lazily around the dark lit corners of a Muggle club. His eyes glittered dangerously as the beat of the music synched gloriously with the pumping of her heart. And when Lucius caught sight of the woman’s hair, he knew then that he had to have her tonight.

Lucius bid his time and observed her from afar. He watched as the woman finally got up and went to the bar for a refill of her drink. It was his opportunity. Lucius sauntered over and made his presence known.

A few honeyed words here and there and he instantly had a willing victim in his arms. It was too easy. Muggles were always too easy. He already felt himself getting bored.

He had half the mind to just bring her out the back alley, be done with it, and find another one to satiate his hunger but his mother had taught him to never play with his food. So, Lucius brought the woman up to the penthouse. Besides, he didn’t want to stain his dress shirt. _The night is still young, after all._

Lucius looked down at his shirt, noting its high-quality brand and the tailoring he’d insisted on before ever taking it from the store. He favored this shirt and getting it stained with blood would put him off in the worst way. On the other hand, if he allowed her to undress him, let her kiss beneath the garment, it would feel like too much work for such little reward. Lucius would have to scrub her cheap lipstick off his chest after, and then bother with guiding each button through its proper hole. There must have been something like eight or nine of them, and it wasn’t as if he hadn’t already done so upon dressing.

Just thinking of all the effort required exhausted him. It would be one thing if the woman was worthwhile, but she was far from. Her advances were drunken and sloppy and sure to disappoint. What would she do once she saw him bare? Something underwhelming—obviously. She simply wasn’t capable of paying proper tribute to the fine specimen that he was.

The woman was now struggling to remove his belt and open his trousers. Losing the patience to humor her any further, Lucius decided to end this dalliance. He pulled her up to him and angled her head so he could run his lips down the side of her neck. The smell of her tacky roll-on perfume gave him a small headache as he tried to focus on the steady pump of blood that traveled her body in streams of veins. The primal call of hunter and prey, though faint, still beat soundly enough to coax his incisors from his gums.

Just as he was about to tear into the woman, a pair of whiskey-colored eyes glinted off in a distant, dimly lit corner. If Lucius wasn’t what he was now, he wouldn’t have noticed it.

 _Seriously, Lucius?_ A voice entered his mind. _Couldn’t you have waited for me?_

Lucius retracted his teeth and lifted his head. “You were taking too long,” he answered the darkness _. I only have a few days to enjoy this._

“I couldn’t get the belt off,” the woman moaned over his shoulder. Oblivious to the other party in the room.

 _It was just an hour. Are you really that hungry?_ the eyes answered.

 _You know the answer to that._ He willfully ignored the way his food pushed herself up off the arms of the chair to kiss his jaw. _You’re the one who implemented this strict ‘diet’._

The creature invading his mind walked further into the light. A riot of chocolate curls blazed around the dark amber orbs that commanded him. The woman in his lap suddenly paled in comparison to the heavenly creature the stood before him.

“It’s for our protection,” Hermione answered, her voice lighter—higher, than the deeper sound of her thoughts in his head. The toned legs his lips had traveled countless times, lead her closer to him. _I told you to feed yesterday. If only just a little._ “You’ve always been an impatient boy.”

The woman in his lap was startled by the sound of another voice, suddenly realizing she wasn’t alone with Lucius anymore. Quickly recovering from her shock, she set herself to possess the man she’d caught in her crosshairs—or so she thought. “What are you, his wife?”

“Something like that,” Hermione smirked.

 _More than that,_ Lucius corrected. _And don’t call me ‘boy’._

“Well, he obviously doesn't want you anymore, so bugger off,” the mortal Muggle’s face screwed, determined in her claim. “You look too young to be his wife anyway.”

“Is that so?” Hermione smirked.

“Yes. Land your own man,” the woman ran her hand over Lucius’ chest. “He’s mine.”

Hermione chuckled. It was an ugly sound that came from her deepest darkest depths, emerging to spew past her lips. “He may bite you—”

“Huh?” The woman stirred in his arms. “Bite me? What the fuck are you on about?”

Hermione ignored the confused look on the woman’s face. “He may even let you fuck him while he does it if it means an even more delicious feed. He always had a penchant for the finer things. Honestly, your kind means nothing to Lucius. He’s always found sex with mortals all so paltry,” she explained, the humor never leaving her voice as she did. “I’m inclined to agree—your kind lacks the stamina. That aside, it’s important that you make no mistake about the man you’re staining your Burberry’s for.”

Hermione reached out, bringing her fingertips to the back of his head, digging into his scalp to scratch and adore him as if he were her pet. “He is _mine._ ”

He made no effort to avoid her touch, shamelessly enjoying the massage. Hermione raked her fingers in his hair, the silky blond locks so soft in her hand as she said, “I’ve only ever shared his heart with one other woman.” Her lips thinned as she divulged, “My best friend.”

Lucius rolled his eyes and looked away, as close to embarrassed as the man would ever be. Hermione spoke to the breathing blood bag in his lap. “It would be safe to assume he has a type, and cheap sluts like yourself aren’t it.”

“Will you ever let me live Ginevra down?” Lucius sighed, snatching her hand from his head to bring it around to his lips.

Hermione smiled at the tickle, opting to tease, “Will you ever let me forget Theo?”

 _You would so easily say his name to me?_ Lucius’ jaw tightened along with his grip. _After the years you shared his bed?!_

“Guess not,” she snorted. “You know, you’re being quite hypocritical. You've been with so many women even after I entered your life and had I uttered a word of protest? And if that wasn’t enough, you had to go and fuck Ginny! Ginny Weasley! She was my best friend!”

“It was one time! One mistake! I was angry and hurt and she was there. I groveled and apologized to you for decades. What more do you want?” Lucius narrowed his eyes. _I mean it, Hermione. Don't mention that boy to me. I won't tell you again._

“It’s been well over five hundred years, and you still get so worked up whenever I say his name,” Hermione loosened her grip in his hand, allowing him to follow suit. She wet her lips, her voice turned warm and indecent as she added, “It isn’t as if you haven’t had me in your bed so many times over, ever since then.”

Hermione ran a palm over her hip, her eyes fluttering shut as she all but moaned, “All around and inside me, filling me to forget anyone but you. Year after decade after century, each more passionate than the last.”

It couldn’t be helped.

It really couldn’t.

She was pushing his buttons with her voice and her eyes, and her damned hands, stroking and traveling. Teasing and taunting. He shifted in his seat, accommodating the recent blood flow to his groin. He hadn’t realized at first—too entranced by the way she ran her fingers over her bosom when he brushed up against the woman’s thigh. Pleasure shivered through him at the unexpected resistance. A glance at Hermione showed her smiling back at him. Her know-it-all grin said it before her thoughts did, _See?_

“Five hundred years?” The mortal turned to him, her eyes bulging. In their argument, they’ve completely forgotten about the woman’s existence. Lucius felt the woman stiffen in his lap. Her arousal had vanished and was instead replaced by fear. “Why are your eyes suddenly so red? What’s going on?”

Lucius glanced down at the girl in his lap and huffed, “You ruined my food.”

Hermione laughed. _She’ll still taste as good._

 _All I'm going to taste now is the alcohol she consumed earlier,_ he replied.

“You’re such a snob!” She pouted. _I bet a new turn would be more fun than you._

“Do not start.”

Hermione glared daggers at him. _Then let me finish for a change!_

 _We’ve discussed this._ Any pleasure roused between his legs was quickly doused as they revisited a long-standing point of contention between them. “I do not feel comfortable with a new turn.”

 _Because you don’t trust me._ “After all these years.”

“It is not that I don’t trust you,” he lied. “I’m just… cautious.”

“Of me?” She scoffed. _You’re unbearable!_

“Why? I have every right to be cautious!” Lucius turned from frustrated to outraged as memory served his argument. “You turned him! Declared your love for him! And then you ran off with him!”

The offense Hermione had taken faded away in the face of his pained retelling, and she lifted their joined hands and let them rest on her chest. He took only the smallest of comfort in the way she clutched them close.

“I didn’t love him,” she promised, as she’d been promising their entire relationship. When he didn't acknowledge her claim, she pressed him, “Lucius.”

It was weak of him to so adore the sound of his name on her tongue, but it was not a fault he seemed capable of correcting. Despite years of lazy efforts to steel himself against her wiles. 

Her breasts rose and fell and though she no longer required air in her lungs, breathing was a habit she never broke off. She too had weaknesses, and he relished the knowledge of them. His knuckles lay back against the hypnotic motion, feeling the familiarity of his woman in it. She spoke tenderly, “You know that.”

Lucius closed his eyes, allowing her assurances to ease his consternation. His calm did not last long, however, quick to rile as she admitted, “I simply hated you at the time.”

“For giving you eternal life,” he turned his head and huffed at how underappreciated his gift to her had been all those years and lives ago.

The girl in his lap started to pull away. No longer interested in the ensuing argument going between the two odd-looking couple in front of her. But Lucius raised his free hand and clutched her arm in a vice grip. “Ow!” the woman yelped. “You’re hurting me!”

Paying her no mind, Lucius ran his fingers back and forth against the bulge of Hermione’s breast bubbling over her corseted Elizabeth Bathory costume. Touching her did much to soothe him, leading him to always take advantage, whenever the opportunity presented itself.

Hermione thought perhaps he wasn’t as bothered because of it, as he would have her believe. “No, not for giving me eternal life,” she gently corrected him. “For orchestrating the murder of Ron and leaving me with no other choice but to let you turn me to sin.”

And sin they did.

So much sin.

There had been a time before her, when he was still appreciating his marital freedom from Narcissa and recent transition into immortality, that he thought nothing else could ever get him off the way diving so deeply into the immoral had. And then he saw her again years after the war. Her eyes, so wide with hunger and intrigue, drove a primal need to consume.

He knew not how great a delicacy she was until her fury was directed at him. Though she may have justified it with some wayward reasoning—a false sense of righteousness, the deception was a smudge on her soul. It was the very opposite of what drew him to her in the first place. Besmirched spirits were like bruised fruit at a market: still good, but too blemished to feast on. She should have been ruined to him, the tinge of darkness he'd spied in her detracting from her appeal. Instead, he found himself further admiring the girl he'd used to hate with every fiber of his being. Her moment of indignant rage promised so much.

She was an investment.

He had brought her to greater depths of sin than she'd ever imagined. Though, it was she that had already been lingering at the door to it more than any blessed virginal soul would dare. The way she tracked his movements in the Ministry back then, always finding him in a crowd. She wanted his corruption. The slight blush at her cheeks that spread down her throat and to what little chest she exposed at the time, told him she ached for it. The way she manipulated Shacklebolt to have him removed from the Wizengamot back then meant she would do whatever necessary to achieve her goals. He appreciated her drive and would apply the pressure she needed to ease the frustration of potential unrealized. Cherished family only held her back. Her mortal ties were chaining her to the Ministry, forcing her to sit at the feet of cruel men incapable of appreciating her metamorphosis.

Breaking her chains, stealing her from the blinding world of light, saving her from their shunning, was the best thing he ever could have done for her. Killing her former husband was the cherry on top. It had all been accomplished with style and grace, and there was something to be said for clean hands. She resented him then, but oh how she blossomed into the most beautiful creature for it. Filled with damnation and devoid of mercy, at the tip of his fangs, she became forever a part of him. 

His childe.

His lady.

His mate.

For five hundred years— _for forever._

Passion stirred inside him, his pupils blowing wide open as he remembered the moment her will to resist him broke and she appeared on his doorstep, bearing the gift of herself: body, mind, and barren heart.

If she had a soul, he was certain she’d have relinquished even that to him too.

With open arms, he accepted the woman who spurned him. Unlike the women before her, she learned the error of her ways and saw the truth of his devotion to her. He cherished her gift to him, worshiping every inch of her body before allowing her to ask him all the questions that had been rattling around her beautiful mind unanswered. He explained the feelings behind his calculations, and rather than run, as he had grown to expect from her, she stayed.

And kept staying.

He dared not allow himself to hope that when he woke, she would still be there. Yet, her continued presence gave him more than hope, but in fact expectation. Growing confidence that she would always be there. She was claiming him, simply by her constant companionship.

She couldn’t plot and plan to take him as he had taken her. No. She couldn’t prove her feelings for him that way, but she could through her loyalty. Lucius had sent dozens of spies out to catch her untrue, and nary a one could. Something had changed inside of her, and each time he turned to her, he found her less and less likely to ever call upon her tow-headed fuck toy again.

It was Lucius Malfoy that lusted after Hermione Granger, but it was them that seduced each other.

Lucius maneuvered his hand in her grasp, burrowing his index finger between her breasts. He curled it around the fabric-covered metal wires that crested, wanting more than her clothing would allow. “Oh, _ma petite lionne_ ,” the word melted in his mouth and he had to swallow before he reminded her, “You found sin long before I turned you.”

“Let me go or I’ll scream,” the mortal woman frantically looked between the two of them.

Hermione smirked at the girl’s useless threat before ignoring her again. “All at your machinations, Lucius.”

“To better you,” he appealed. _To strengthen you._

She turned, reaching for his cheek with her other hand. “I know.” _My love._

Lucius lifted his chin out of her grasp, giving the scared woman in front of him a haughty look as he thought to Hermione, _I didn’t steal you. I put in the effort for you. I worked for you._

Hermione clucked her tongue at him. “And as you know, in time, I was able to see the romance in your gesture.”

Lucius’ grip on the woman loosened and she brought her feet out from under her to stand from the straddle she had in his lap. Wasting no time, she immediately bolted for the door.

Hermione released Lucius to fly at the woman, catching her arms and holding them hard behind her back. The woman bellowed in pain and fear. The shrill of the sound titillated Hermione with anticipation for the kill. Puffing her chest out against the material of her gown, Hermione glared at Lucius as she spoke to the girl. “You see—” she paused, sifting through the woman’s brain for her name. _Charlotte_ floated to the surface. “Such a pretty name for a doxie like yourself. Bet you’re wishing you and your friends went to a different club tonight.”

Hermione pecked a kiss to her ear. “You see Charlotte, I had trouble adjusting when my love first turned me to this world without light, and I may have spent some time taking out my feelings on another—before I realized my love for my maker.”

 _Some time?_ Lucius mentally mocked, his passion turning to hate.

“It took time to know my heart,” she explained. _I was young._

Her age was never of any concern to Lucius, if anything it only added to the appeal. Hermione's heart was the same heart she'd been born with, it need not change. It certainly didn't need such a long time to determine her mind. How dare she minimize her transgression. _It was seven years!_

“But who’s counting, aye?” Hermione laughed as she nudged Charlotte closer. _I refuse to let you go hungry._ “What kind of childe would I be to my sire if I did?”

Feeling his eye twitch, he thought back, _So, it is only out of familial obligation that you insist upon my nourishment?_

“Sire? Jesus, you people are bonkers!” Charlotte screeched, glancing at the door.

Lucius leaned forward, reaching to touch his middle finger and thumb to her forehead. “Shh,” he whispered.

The woman froze in place. Her eyes closed and her arms drooped, slack to either side.

“Eat,” Hermione pushed Charlotte forward. “You’re pale—well, paler than normal.”

Lucius fell back in the chair, slouching as he waved the offering away. “I’m not interested.”

 _Because I turned Theodore Nott—yes, I said his name!—CENTURIES ago?_ Her mind growled, having had enough of his. “I have been by your side ever since.”

Lucius said nothing, merely played with the many rings on his fingers and sniffed the air.

 _I know you’re over this,_ Hermione decided, clearing the long chestnut strands of hair from Charlotte’s shoulder. There was no preamble or hesitation. The speed at which she lunged for the woman’s neck was faster than the human eye could blink. Blood flowed heavy past her fangs and poured down her throat with each suck and swallow.

The life force Hermione consumed struck every ember in her body as it passed over her taste buds, setting her ablaze. Her cheeks reddened at such proximity to mortality, her heart even tempted to beat in sympathy. It didn’t, of course—too long dead for such gaiety. Her lashes fluttered at the sensation of filling herself with another, taking every last bit the woman had to give, only to insist on more. It had been a while since Hermione last drank to kill, usually too careful to take too much. Her gaze slid to Lucius as she gulped.

He had turned to face her, finally giving her his attention. It wasn’t enough. If he were feeling himself, he’d have risen from his chair and joined her. Instead, he watched with tentative interest, his erection returning only mildly.

He’d lost the drive to feed.

That was unacceptable. He needed nourishment. 

Hermione let the girl drop once she’d finished, licking the stray blood clean from her bottom lip. “You’re hungry,” she whispered, nudging the body aside with her dress boot. “Let me feed you.”

She ignored his silent stoic protests as she lifted one leg to step on the armrest.

Lucius glanced down at her foot. The thought of dirt and mud smearing and mashing into the antique arm had him twisting his face in disgust. _Feet,_ Lucius scolded. _I didn’t raise a savage._

Quickly dismissing his concern for the furniture, she focused on sustaining him. “Shush.” Parting and moving her skirts aside, she offered him her creamy thigh. It had always been his preference to take from her there. “Come, my love,” she persuaded him, reaching for the back of his neck, guiding him to her.

The will to resist waned and Lucius found his fangs extending against the inside of her leg, so soft and smooth. He began to salivate, inches from her apex, her scent awakening his interest. Sighing as his teeth sank into her, she allowed her body to offer what he refused to take from the mortal. His palms came up to clasp the outside of her thigh, holding it to his mouth with increasing ferocity as he closed his eyes and swallowed.

He truly was famished. She was right to insist he eat.

“That’s it, my love,” she cooed, running her fingers through his hair again, stroking and encouraging. She let her pleasure sound in her voice, so possessive as she added, “My sire.”

 _Master,_ he corrected, with an edge of neediness.

Knowing him well, she thought, _You’re only ever so insecure when you’re restless._ “Are you bored with life again?”

Lucius gulped down more blood before retracting his teeth and pressing a peck of a kiss against the tiny pinhole wounds he’d created. “I tire, Hermione.”

She dropped her skirts and lowered herself down to his lap, taking her rightful place away from the woman they’d lured back to their penthouse. Holding his face with both hands, she rested her forehead against his. Hermione noticed his eyes had returned to their usual color of steely grey. “Nonsense,” she whispered.

“I’m an old man,” he closed his eyes. “I’ve said and done it all before. Nothing ever changes. I’ve used this world to its fullest.”

Hermione smiled, pressing her lips to his. _I had forgotten how dramatic you can be at times._

Lucius broke from her kiss to glare at her. “I’m not amused.”

“That is because you, my love, need a party,” she flashed him a mouth full of pearly whites. “It’s All Hallow’s Eve, Lucius. Let us find some merriment in the one night a year reserved for our kind.”

“We’ve witnessed countless Halloween celebrations—this one will be no different from any of the others.”

_I disagree. This one will be very different._

Lucius raised his brow in question.

Eager to tell him what he didn’t already know, Hermione wasted no time explaining, “This year, you’re going to let me have a childe of my own.”

 _No._ “No.” He had been quite clear about his no-turning policy. It was one he’d created shortly after she ran away from him and into Theodore Nott’s arms.

“Yes.” _You never let me turn anyone._

 _Consider what happened the last time you turned someone,_ Lucius warned. Again.

She stopped unexpectedly, her nails digging into his chest. Her head whipped around, the ornaments in her hair twinkling in the overhead light. Narrowing her eyes at him, she growled, “Stop throwing that in my face!” Taking a moment to compose herself, she thought in an even tone, _I have no interest in turning a lover. I want a childe._

Hermione sighed at him, giving him an impatient look. When he didn’t budge, she leaned in as if to kiss him, her eyes shutting as she neared. Once close enough to his lips to press upon them, she bit his bottom lip hard instead. He winced from the pain, snarling, “Bloody hell, Hermione!”

“Stop changing the subject!” Hermione snarled. “You took away my ability to bear a child when you turned me that night. You’ve always known that I’ve wanted kids of my own. A family. You’ve had your turn with Draco. Let me have this, Lucius.”

Lucius stared, flabbergasted by her sudden severe need to nurture. This was a phase. Give it another five hundred years and she’d be laughing about that time she thought she wanted a childe.

“It’s not a phase,” she answered.

 _Stop reading my mind!_ he scowled.

“I want to turn someone for us to teach and grow and to be loyal to us,” she explained. “I would teach it to hunt and feed and lie and steal. You could teach it all our abilities and our ways. And gods, Lucius, I could send it to university!” She looked away from him, picturing this future. “Care packages—weekly. So, they won’t forget that Mommy _cares_. That’s it. My mind is made up. I want to send someone to university. It’s my right as a woman.”

Lucius thought for a moment, taking it all in. Perhaps this venture of hers wouldn’t spawn from spite, but instead her last desperate grasp at the humanity she’d fallen so far from.

It wasn’t as if whoever they picked would be a baby, nursing from her breast, or holding his hand to steady it for its first steps.

_Aren’t we lucky for that?_

Hermione was beaming at his thoughts. She pecked a kiss at his cheek, washing away any annoyance he felt over her perusing his brain, and pulled him after her again. “Babies are a lot of work for such little reward,” she admitted. “And they can’t go to college. No. No babies. I want someone fun and interesting to share with you.”

“You do realize that they’ll be only a decade younger than you in terms of physical looks?” he raised an eyebrow at her.

“Oh, I know,” Hermione laughed, settling fully into his lap, her large skirts cumbersome and billowing all around them. It was a wonder she could feel his erection under all that material, let alone grind effectively against it. She licked his bottom lip and whispered, “I can’t wait to call you _Daddy_.”

That did it.

Lucius fished for his pocketknife, snapping it open as he said, “It’s best to practice new things.”

Hermione eyed the knife he brought to her chest, every muscle in her body flexing and clenching in anticipation. She grew warm and wet and frustrated with things like zippers and fabric.

The knife slipped beneath the laces of her corset. Lucius yanked his arm back, slicing through the bindings with a rip and popping sound. The thin gauze of her shift laid a barrier between the cool air and the taut nipples that begged for attention. He dropped the knife on the floor to pick at the two strings loosely tied at the top of her undergarment.

Hermione bit her lip, watching him unwrap her so carefully, more of her creamy flesh coming into view. Untied, her shift plunged to an obscene low. It only got lower once he started pulling the open gown forward, further up her back to slide further down her chest. Goosebumps tickled over her exposed flesh, stopping at the heat that radiated up from her core. The confusion of hot and cold warred inside her and her body spiraled in need.

Feeling the need to make things a little more even, Hermione grabbed handfuls of his shirt, ripping it open. Buttons flew in either direction and pinged against the walls around them. Some ricocheted off and hit her, though she hardly noticed. Her fangs itched to show at the sight of his delicious chest and the small scars that dominated it.

Lucius’ eyes turned molten as he looked up at her. His hips shifted under her, crushing his cock up into the rough ridges of his zipper. The needy way she nestled her pussy against his fly almost sent him to frenzy.

His hands went to her hair, ripping the costume jewelry from it. Sparkly pins and beads rained down all around them, leaving her mane wild and undone. He would have her beautiful hair down, tumbling over her shoulders to obscure and tease her breasts while he took her.

He tickled her nipple with a lock of hair before taking it in his mouth to swirl his tongue and suck it. _We could be alone forever._

“You’re not getting out of it this time. I don’t care how hard you fuck me,” the air hardly had a chance to cool his naked thighs before she was impaling herself on him, slowly sinking back down onto his lap. Taking him deeper, consuming him whole. Her eyes locked with his, willing him to anchor her through the pleasure. Her body so soft and supple, fit and tight, had him willing her the same.

When she bottomed out, he held her to him for a moment, feeling as close to complete as he ever had.

_I feel the same, my love._

They sat there like that, savoring the moment before she squirmed them back into motion. It had started as a readjusting. As if trying to get comfortable in a nice warm bed. Then her movement became more targeted. It was as if she were merely trying to get closer to him, crawling up his lap only to slide back down and start her climb all over.

Lucius stroked her back as she nudged and nestled into him, her lips hot on his collar, her tits pressing against his chest. _This is sublime,_ he thought.

She nodded. “Yes.”

“This is…” Lucius let his head loll back on the chair’s top rail. _Fate._

Her rocking more rhythmic as she clutched each lapel tightly in her fists. _Oh gods, yes._ Hermione yanked him up off the seat, crushing him against her. Nose to nose, he fell victim to the amber flames that set every nerve ending in his body on fire. Hypnotized by those eyes, Lucius barely heard her bark, “Touch me!”

It was just what he needed to come to his senses. _Gladly,_ he smirked as he reached under the ruffles and folds of her skirts, letting his palms grip and massage her thighs. He was glad she forewent the stockings and garters, needing to feel her skin against his.

_Wait._

Come to think of it, he didn’t remember her having to slide her panties off before she climbed on top of him. Had she skipped her small clothes altogether? His fingers inched higher, taking on the undercover investigation.

In her longing to hold him so closely, she’d pulled the crotch of her panties to the side and let it rest there as she rode him. How very wanton of her. He would reward her insatiable appetite for him, or finally discover death trying.

Pulling the fabric of her panties aside further, he uncovered the luscious dark curls that decorated her mound. They were more than damp—they were soaked. Lucius gripped the slippery thatch of hair and tugged, gently and in rhythm with her motions. Guiding her down on him at the pull of her intimate hairs, his control of her was primal and absolute, brooking no room for disobedience. Judging by the whimper she released, she greatly enjoyed submitting to this degree of domination.

“I can assure you, my little lioness. I have no interest in 'getting out' of this,” he hissed, petting her pussy for emphasis before taking her other nipple in his mouth.

“Yes,” she moaned. “I need it so much. Please.”

Lucius released his suction, smirking. “I know you do, my love.” His fingers unfurled, letting go of her. _And who always gives it to you?_

She cried at the loss of contact. “You do! Please, Lucius!”

“That's right! Don’t you ever forget it,” he was quick to burrow his fingers beneath the sodding flesh that surrounded him. _You don’t need a lover._

“No,” she agreed, shaking her head.

_You don’t need a childe._

She said nothing, only groaned beneath his fingers.

Hunting for her pearl, he was eager to flick and squeeze the bundle of nerves that reduced her to gelatin in his arms. He loved her best that way, no urge or will to do anything but lay against him, letting him touch and smell and kiss her. “You only need me.” 

Hermione bit her lip and nodded vehemently. Rocking harder into him, she said, “I want you to come in me, my love. Please.”

Well, that was naughty. And it reminded him that she had teased she’d be a great deal naughtier. He pinched her slippery flesh between his fingers as he beat her to it, _I thought you were practicing…_

She furrowed her brow at him, confused for a moment before it dawned on her. “Daddy!” She exclaimed, snickering, “You feel so good.”

“Merlin,” he breathed, his fingers and hips working her harder and faster. Sex, in Lucius’ opinion, was best spread over hours. However, they only had a few hours before the sun rose. He hadn’t yet had his fill of blood. His words dripped with debauchery as he nipped her throat and reminded her, “I always come in you, my love.” _Your cunt looks its absolute best when my seed seeps from it._

The image he gave her, threw her into ecstasy, taking her from him. Eyes fluttering shut, her voice wavered above him in fits of orgasm. He held her tightly to himself, bucking fiercely into her, chasing the waves she rode on. He would catch her and force her to take him with her.

Lucius bit her breast, letting the sweet and decadent taste of her blood couple with the sinful squeeze of their joining. His cheeks warmed as life flowed into him and spasmed around him. The rhythmic pleasure was suddenly too much, sending him sailing away on one of her waves, far from gravity and their physical trappings.

When the waves of pleasure finally rolled off, he was able to find the strength to lift his hand and brush hair from her sweaty brow. Her last request rang through his brain and he felt he needed to clarify something. “You do know that our sex will not bear fruit, correct? We cannot create life, Hermione. Only cheat death and spread our curse.” Hundreds of years of unprotected sex should have broken that obvious truth to her.

She laughed into his chest. “And here I thought it was that you couldn’t come inside without an invitation.”

Lucius rolled his eyes. _Your sense of humor leaves much to be desired._

“It’s Halloween.” _I’m allowed._

He ran his hand down her back, petting her as he had before, only now noticing the rough material of the gown she wore. The front had been left open baring her chest to lay naked, pressed against his. Kissing the top of her head he glanced at the knife that lay on the floor beside them. _Your dress is ruined._

“I can think of worse ways for it to have been damaged,” she purred, pecking a kiss to nose before getting up from his lap. Hermione peeled off the layers of her clothes one by one as she walked towards the armoire. She pulled out a sleek olive green dress from the rack that matched his cravat and shimmied into it.

Lucius noticed that she’d forgone wearing underwear and couldn’t help the smirk to creep up. _Naughty, naughty minx._ “The night is still young, my love. We should go out and celebrate.”

She flashed him a demure smile before reaching out to him. “Start thinking of names first, Lucius.” _I like the name Hugo._

“Or we could continue the long-standing Malfoy tradition of naming sons after Latin words,” he replied.

“Maybe we should have a girl,” Hermione’s eyes narrowed on Lucius. _You’ve always been too hard on Draco back then and I think it’s because he’s a boy._

 _Draco._ Lucius had missed his son very much. He’d never been a good father to him but Draco still turned out to be a fine man and had continued on the family legacy after Lucius ‘disappeared’. The Malfoy name continued to this day but without the disgrace, he and his predecessors had caused during the Wizarding Wars. It’s been centuries and everyone they knew from their mortal life had passed on to the afterlife

 _I hear Professor Binns is still teaching at Hogwarts,_ Hermione mused. She’d been listening into his thoughts again. He really should have put a stop to it back when she first learned to, but he felt so much closer to her when she knew his mind, that he never closed that part of their bond. There were times he regretted that decision, usually when she had an agenda. Sighing with pleasure, Hermione finished her thought, _Maybe we could turn a wizard and send it to school there. They allowed Remus after all._

 _They had, hadn’t they?_ The memory of Hermione’s first-ever feed came to mind and a small smile played at his lips. For the first time in six hundred years, Lucius found himself actually willing to entertain this desire of hers. In the past, he would have agreed with her at the moment to quiet her, without any true intention of following through. But a lot of things had changed his perspective and before he knew it, he was smiling. “Eat first, there is no rush. We can discuss names on the way.”

“You are committed then? Truly? Your mind is made?” She asked, searching his eyes.

His ringed fingers tucked a lock of hair behind her ear before he tilted her head towards him to place a gentle kiss on her forehead. His lips tickled her as he whispered, “I have always provided for you, and I always will. If you require a childe, I will ensure you have one.”

Hermione gripped his wrist and drug his hand from the back of her neck, down to rest on the supple breasts over her heart. She kissed him deeply as she held his palm in place and hummed happily to herself, _I have never regretted returning to you, from the moment I entered the gates of the Manor and stood on your doorstep, praying you’d answer my call._ She twisted her head to accept more of him. _I feel blessed in my damnation for every night we have together._

Lucius pulled from her lips to gaze down at the deeper shade of pink they’d become. They were made more beautiful with use and they belonged to him. He spoke more to himself than to her as he said, “We have many nights.”

Taking his thumb in her mouth, her eyes flashed up to his. Her pupils swallowed the glowing brown irises until nothing but darkness glittered back at him.

_We have all eternity._


End file.
